


Lesson Learned

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: 30+ Years AU, Angst, Daddy Kink, Facials, Fluff, M/M, Rimming, Roleplay, Shy!Stan AU, Spanking, Teacher/Student Roleplay, biting kink, schoolgirl outfit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 20:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5429282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford has been down in the lab for six days, so Stan takes it upon himself to get him to come upstairs. To do so, he decides to take on the role of a bad student...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lesson Learned

**Author's Note:**

> This was written to be my 666 post on tumblr the ultimate sin, and it grew to be much larger than I'd ever thought it'd be. I'd assumed it would be around 2000 words and yet it got to be over 6000. I love the Hell out of this fic. It's angsty then porny then fluffy. And I love it.

Six days. Ford had been down in the lab doing God knows what for  _six whole days._

[][][][][]

When Stan had gotten the portal up and running he’d been glad. Excited.  _Elated_. He was never as good as Ford in all that math and science and physics. He’d always been more of a business and art person and, Hell, he’d barely passed his classes in high school! But Ford had been―Ford was the smarter one of the two of them. Stan had known for a fact that if (in a different situation) anyone could have gotten that portal running again, it could have been Ford.

But Ford hadn’t been there. Because Ford was trapped in the portal. Which was Stan’s  _fault_. He hadn’t wanted Ford to send him away―he hadn’t wanted to leave again. A decade without the only person that had ever meant anything to him, just to be told to leave and never come back? The mere thought of Ford just… turning him away as if he didn’t matter had―

It just. It hadn’t gone over well with Stan. And he didn’t know where the anger had come from, but he’d just―just  _pushed_ , and the next thing he knew Ford was floating, being pulled into the portal, the journal was being tossed at his feet, and Ford was shouting at him.

“Take the book, Stanley! Take it far away!” he had yelled, the portal sucking him in, “Please Stanley! Don’t make my mistake! I lo―”

But then… then he was just. Gone. And Stan had―he’d had to use the one journal he had. He’d had to use it to find the other two. To―to reopen the portal. It had been a long three years. Every night was spent just―trying to imagine what Ford could be going through on the other side of that portal. It had  _ate at him_  to think that Ford might be getting tortured, or worse, that he might even be―

No. Stan didn’t know what it was, but he could feel it, deep within himself. Ford wasn’t dead. Stan didn’t understand the feeling, but he just knew it was right. So he worked himself every day and every night, doing odd jobs around Gravity Falls as well as strange favours, most of which yielded parts he needed for the portal (among…  _other_  strange things the people of the city had).

And after three years, he’d done it. He’d reopened the portal and his brother― _Ford_  had come through, larger and bulkier than Stan had remembered, but three years must have done  _something_  to him.

“Ford-!” Stan shouted, running toward his brother. The arms of his brother were outstretched and caught him easily in a hug, the two of them nearly spinning. Stan held tight, before pulling back to look into his brother’s face. The goggles and scarf obscured his expression, so Stan reached up to pull them away.

“Stanley…” a raspier voice than what he remembered said, a hand coming up to touch his cheek. Stan frowned, pulling away the goggles and scarf. The colour drained from his face immediately when he saw Ford’s own.

“A lot has changed, Stanley.” Ford sighed. The near silver at his temple and the gray of his hair, the hard lines of his face, the weary look in his eyes― “And a lot  _can_  change―especially in  _thirty years_ …”

[][][][][]

It―things weren’t easy, those first few days. Ford was too―he was downright  _volatile_. Stan couldn’t get close to him the first few days without Ford going on the defensive. Stan was  _terrified_  of him. He made the mistake, on maybe the eighth or ninth night, of trying to wake Ford from an apparent nightmare, only to be slammed into the floor with a gun placed to his head. If not for Ford recognizing his dimension and  _his Stanley_ , Stan was sure he would’ve ended up dead that night.

An encounter like that would leave a lasting impression on anybody―but especially someone like Stan. The end result was that Stan avoided Ford at all costs for the next two weeks. He was terrified of being around him; every move Ford made caused Stan to flinch away. They couldn’t even have dinner in the same room with each other.

But the severity of the situation didn’t hit Ford until Stan accidentally walked in on him changing. Showering was a must. He hadn’t had the luxury in most dimensions; coming home he’d learned to appreciate it more. He was getting dressed after a  _long_  shower when the door creaked open and he heard a strangled gasp. Quickly whirling around, Ford saw Stan standing there, a hand clapped over his mouth, eyes wide and gazing upon the many scars the crisscrossed his body.

“Stanley, what are you―” Ford felt anger rising in his blood. He hadn’t―he’d never wanted Stan to see these. Why couldn’t Stan knock? Why couldn’t―

“It’s my fault,” Stan breathed, and Ford could see Stan’s eyes becoming glossy with tears. “It’s  _all_  my fault.”

The anger in Ford’s mind retreated when he heard those words, morphing into confusion, and then understanding, and then the utmost regret. And then it came back around to anger again, this time at himself. None of this was Stan’s fault, absolutely  _none_. When Stan had pushed him―yeah, at first he’d been angry at Stan, because Stan hadn’t listened to him. For once he hadn’t done what he was told, and the repercussions ended with Ford running from dimension to dimension for thirty years―only three for Stan.

But all of that left Ford to think, to  _really_  think, long and hard. When he wasn’t on the run with a bounty on his head, all he could think about was his brother. Every time he slept, he dreamed of Stan, of waking up at home with his brother lying beside him, the morning sun peeking through the bedroom window and illuminating Stan beautifully. And every time Ford woke up, he remembered that he wasn’t there. That he probably would  _never_  be there again. And it wasn’t  _really_  Stan’s fault.

If he hadn’t tried to make Stan leave, if he’d never told Stan to go far away and never return with the journal, he would never have ended up here. If he hadn’t done that, if he’d hugged Stan and told him that he missed him, that he  _wanted_ him to stay and he wasn’t trying to be some misguided hero, maybe,  _maybe_ , he would have that. Maybe Stan would be looking at him with  _love_  in his eyes instead of  _fear_. Maybe he would be happy.

But instead Stan was crying again. And it was Ford’s fault.

“You didn’t―Stanley!” Ford tried to say something, to remedy the situation, but Stan turned and fled from the room immediately, leaving no chance for conversation.

Ford followed him, pulling on his shirt as he chased Stan out of his room and into Stan’s own. He didn’t even know why Stan had been coming to his room. It didn’t matter now, though. Now he had to contain the situation.

“Stanley!” Ford called, but the door was shut in his face. He could’ve forced it, easily, but that would be no good. Stan would only be more afraid of him if he forced the door open.

“I’m sorry, Ford, I’m so sorry,” Stan whimpered from the other side. Ford could tell he was leaning against the door. Ford leaned against the door.

“ _Nothing_  is your fault, Stanley,” Ford replied. “You didn’t―it’s my fault, not yours.”

“I pushed you.”

The tiny sob made Ford bang his head against the door. He wished he hadn’t done this to his brother. He wished he’d kissed him instead of pushed a book into his hands. He wished―

“Open the door, Stanley.”

There was no movement from the other side for a long while. Just the sound of sniffling; Stan was crying. Ford hated hearing Stan cry. And he hated being the reason for Stan’s tears. He heard a soft click, and then tried the doorknob. It opened with ease and Ford pushed, stepping into Stan’s bedroom.

Stan stood on the other side of the door, in the center of the room, in front of the bed. His eyes were red and puffy from crying. His head was tilted down towards the floor and he flinched when Ford reached for him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. Ford tilted his head up, so that they stared each other in the eye.

“It’s not your fault,” Ford replied in the same breath. He would never let Stan think that any of this was his fault, because it wasn’t.

Stan closed his eyes. Ford leaned in.

“I love you…”

[][][][][]

 _Six. Days_. Ford hadn’t emerged once, hadn’t come out to touch him, hadn’t even called upstairs to let Stan know he was fine. After two years, Stan would’ve thought Ford better than this. He paced a bit in front of the door that led downstairs, trying to figure out how he could possibly lure Ford up so that he could eat. Not just come up for more coffee, actually  _eat_.

He’d already gone down and tried to just  _bring_  Ford up, but his brother had told him that the research was too important. Something about needing to contain anomalies? Stan had no clue (well, no, that was a lie. Stan understood just enough), which meant he needed to figure something out.

Walking towards their (now shared) bedroom, Stan went past his old room and caught a glimpse at something on the bed inside. He didn’t remember going in there recently, so maybe Ford…?

The item on the bed made Stan hesitate. Back when he was first trying to get the portal up and running, he’d done several favours for people around the town, and he had been given miscellaneous items for his hard work. Some things were stranger than others, but he’d locked the odder items away, likely to never be seen again.

This was one such item. He picked the article of clothing up and glanced back towards the doorway, as if the older man would come in and stop him, before he scoffed a bit. Fat chance of that happening. The  _only_  way Ford was coming up from downstairs was if Stan took a step out of his comfort zone and did something that  _shocked_  Ford out of his work induced haze. And this particular set of clothing was going to help him.

He needed a shower.

[][][][][]

Ford slammed his hands down onto the console.  _Nothing was working._ He couldn’t contain the anomalies and soon the crack in the rift would get bigger and there was the chance that Bill―

“I need coffee,” he rumbled to himself, pulling his glasses off his face and rubbing at his eyes. He felt so  _weary_. He usually did these days. Thirty years did a lot to a man.

He turned to head upstairs, his mind wandering to his brother. He hadn’t been  _upstairs_  upstairs in, what, almost a week? He’d only surfaced for coffee a few times, to keep going. He hadn’t even come up to go to bed, choosing instead to sleep down in the lab. Which meant he’d been neglecting his lover.

“Stanley?” Ford called when he came upstairs. He looked around the house, the eerie quiet causing him to hum. Maybe Stan had gone out to get groceries.

He brewed a pot of coffee and poured himself a nice cup. A single sip of the black substance gave Ford something of a jolt, clearing his mind as he took in more. Maybe he should take the coffeemaker downstairs. Stan wasn’t that fond of coffee anyway.

He continued his thoughts as he headed back downstairs, though his mind briefly wondered why it took so long for the elevator come back up. Disregarding it, he went over possible places to put the coffeemaker in his mind, mentally moving things around. Maybe under the console? That’d be good. That way it would be out of the way and―

“ _…ah…_ ”

The tiny noise caused Ford to stop in his musings of spiriting the coffeemaker away. His grip on his mug tightened, recognizing that the noise  _had_  to have come from Stan. He knew all of the sweet sounds Stan could make; knew what caused them too.  _That_  particular noise came from gently sliding his fingers over Stan’s nipples, a tiny, high pitched, sound that went straight to Ford’s dick.

He walked towards where he thought the sound had come from, which was over near his work area. He didn’t expect anything more than Stan, in his chair, possibly jerking it. That was a pleasant image for his mind’s eye. To see Stan, his beautiful brother, splayed in his chair, hand wrapped around his own cock and fingers brushing over his pretty pink nipples. But, he needed to get his work done, so they wouldn’t be able to play for long.

“Stanley, if you wanted to―” Ford stopped, mid-sentence. And he stared.

And stared.

And stared.

Stan squirmed in the seat, arms wrapped around himself, sitting in a full school girl uniform, complete with headband to keep his hair back from his eyes. The skirt barely covered the tops of his thighs, which were covered by white stockings, held in place with garter belts, almost exposing the pink panties underneath, while the shirt stretched tight across his chest, rubbing over his already hard nipples. He felt like―he felt like he shouldn’t have done this. There was no way of knowing if Ford set out the clothing to see him in it. It was a stupid idea, absolutely idiotic. Why had he even thought it was good?

“Well, well, seems like I’ve got a bad student on my hands,” Ford practically purred. It caught Stan off guard, leaving him speechless.

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

Ford prowled around Stan, like a predator watching its prey, giving him time to collect himself.

“M-Mr. Pines,” he stuttered. “I-I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t? You’re lucky it was just cheating. A  _good_  student like you really should stop being around all those delinquents.” Ford stopped behind Stan. He set the cup down somewhere behind Stan and then slid his hands down Stan’s shoulders.

“You’re a nice kid, Stanley,” Ford’s hands came down to gently swipe over the tight fabric across Stan’s chest, sliding over Stan’s sensitive nipples. Stan made a tiny noise, the same one from earlier. “But even good boys need to be punished once in awhile.”

“Mr. Pines?”

Stan was surprised when Ford pulled him up from the chair, taking a seat himself. Stan had only a split second to realize what was happening before he was being pulled back down, over Ford’s knee. The embarrassing position left his ass exposed, not that it wasn’t pretty exposed already. The fabric he dared call a skirt  _hardly_  covered him.

“A suitable punishment for cheating, hm?” Ford smirked, enjoying the slight tinge of fear in Stan’s eyes.

“M-Mr. Pines,  _please_ …” Stan whimpered. He squirmed as the pink panties were pulled down enough to show the skin of his cheeks and then jolted when his bare bottom was given a single swat.

“Begging won’t do you any good, Stanley, if you don’t do it right,” Ford tutted, and then landed two more hard swats. Stan jerked forward with each one, crying out and pleading with Ford not to continue.

“Please, Mr. Pines, I’ll be good, I’m a good boy, I promise!” he babbled, so in character. It pleased Ford to no end. The sound was like music to his ears. He would’ve thought Stan meant it if it wasn’t for the hard proof that he enjoyed it rubbing against Ford’s leg.

“Good boys don’t cheat on their tests,” Ford chided.

He landed a few more blows before gently rubbing his hand over the reddened cheeks. He smiled down at Stan, who was an absolute  _mess_  beneath him. He had tears shining on his lashes and his erection was leaking heavily against Ford’s leg. Ford’s smile turned into a smirk.

“Do you want to show me how much of a good boy you are?” he whispered into Stan’s ear. Stan nodded eagerly, panting a bit from arousal.

“Then show me.”

Stan scrambled down to his knees beneath Ford, wedging himself between Ford’s legs. Ford had always thought it endearing that Stan was so eager; especially when Stan stared up at him with eyes filled with  _want_ , begging without words for the chance to take Ford into his mouth. It was his one comfort; being able to suck Ford off and get a taste of his cum was sometimes the only thing that could calm him down.

Ford leaned his head on his fist, propped as it was on the arm of the chair. Stan pressed his face into the bulge of Ford’s pants, inhaling the deep musky scent.

“Please, Ford,” he pleaded.

Ford contemplated for a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to take pity on Stan or not. He  _had_  just given his brother a spanking… he could indulge him a little at least.

“Alright, I suppose,” he sighed, as if the whole ordeal was tedious.

Stan’s eyes practically lit up from his excitement, his pupils blown wide as he pulled at Ford’s zipper and unbuttoned his pants. The sight of Ford’s cock, hard and throbbing in his face, made Stan’s mouth water. Eager, he sucked the tip of Ford’s erection into his mouth, practically moaning around him.

“Ah, Stanley…” Ford sighed, a hand coming down to tangle into Stan’s long hair. Stan pressed forward, swallowing more and more of Ford and relaxing his throat. Ford tried not to thrust his hips up, to fuck Stan’s mouth, but the urge was  _very_  intense.

Stan pushed further down, until he was at the base of Ford’s dick, his nose pressed into the coarse grey hair there. He looked up at Ford through lidded eyes and a hand slipped between his own legs to grasp at his own erection, stroking himself. Slowly, with the slightest scrape of his teeth, Stan pulled up, back towards the head, though he didn’t completely pull off. He chose instead to gently flick his tongue over the head while his hand came up to work the shaft.

He pulled his hand away and sunk back down again, once again taking Ford into his mouth to the base. He sucked harshly, making Ford’s breath hitch. When he pulled up this time he raked his teeth over Ford’s erection slightly harder.

“Careful, Stanley,” Ford growled. Stan merely bat his lashes, as if he were completely innocent. Ford wondered how he could even  _attempt_  innocence when he was sucking Ford’s cock like a greedy whore. He sucked harder, causing Ford to suck in a sharp breath. He reached out, gently entwining his fingers in Stan’s hair and pulling him up a bit. Stan relaxed his throat as much as possible, preparing himself when Ford thrust into his mouth.

The jarring movement caused Ford’s cock to stab at the back of his throat, and if Stan was a less careful person his gag reflex would have been triggered. Luckily for them, though, he had been practicing, and this would be the second time Ford fucked his face and he managed not to gag. Stan hoped there would be  _many_  more times in the future.

Ford allowed himself a few more powerful thrusts before he slowly settled into his seat again. He looked down at Stan, whose eyes were lidded with pleasure, lips stretched beautifully around Ford and breathing heavily through his nose. A fond looked passed over the older man’s features.

“Let go.” Stan whined at the command, not wanting to. The fond expression turned into a stern look that promised more punishment if Stan didn’t comply. And as much as he would have  _loved_  to see what Ford had in store for him he felt like he was too aroused to wait any longer. He pulled off of Ford with an audible ‘pop!’ and sat back.

Ford wrapped his hand around his cock and stroked languidly. Stan easily caught on to what Ford wanted to do and opened his mouth wide, sticking his tongue out a bit. Doing so made him look so  _wanton_ ; like a  _slut_  aching to swallow Ford’s cum. Ford didn’t want to disappoint him. He jerked himself quickly, grunting out a moan when he reached his peak, cumming in thick white ribbons all over Stan’s face, some of it landing on his tongue.

“Look at you,” Ford breathed, reaching his other hand over to slide his thumb through the cum on Stan’s face. Stan closed his mouth, tasting Ford’s salty cum and moaning softly in his throat. Ford slipped his thumb between Stan’s lips and Stan sucked it clean, swirling his tongue around the appendage and looking up at Ford through his lashes.

Ford needed to fuck him  _now_.

“Come here,” he panted, Stan scrambled to climb into Ford’s lap, the front of his skirt tented up with his erection.

Ford leaned forward and kissed Stan, squarely on the lips, tasting his own cum when he pushed his tongue into Stan’s mouth. Stan wrapped his arms tightly around Ford’s shoulders, pressing himself fully against the older man. Ford pulled Stan’s hips against himself, pressing their groins together.

“Daddy, please,” Stan whimpered, pulling away to look Ford in the eye. Ford felt his dick twitch at the plea.

“Please what?” Ford knew he was being a little mean; Stan could hardly stand it when Ford made him say what he wanted.

“Please…” Stan averted his eyes. Ford leaned forward, nosing at the space behind Stan’s ear and then sliding his tongue down Stan’s neck. He bit at the junction between Stan’s neck and shoulder gently. When Stan said nothing, he sunk his teeth in a bit harder.

“Fuck me!” Stan gasped, “Please, daddy, fuck me!”

Ford chuckled, his hands sliding over Stan’s hips to grip his ass.

“You only had to ask.”

[][][][][]

They moved upstairs, still all over each other from the elevator to the bedroom. Ford lost his shirt somewhere between his lab space and the elevator, his boots in the basement corridor, and then his pants somewhere between the basement door and the bedroom. He’d have to pick those up later but for now he didn’t worry too much, too invested in getting Stan into their bed.

They managed to remove Stan’s shirt and skirt in little to no time, but Ford had him keep on the panties and stockings. He liked the way they contrasted with Stan’s skin.

When they finally landed on the mattress, Stan took time to run his fingers over Ford’s chest and subsequently the scars that crisscrossed Ford’s body. He loved admiring them and kissing each one; a reminder that he even though Ford had them Stan would still love him more than anyone else in the world. Even the scars from thirty years spent in other dimensions wouldn’t change that.

“See something you like?” Ford chuckled.

“Yes,” Stan replied, “You.”

Ford smiled and leaned down, kissing Stan again. Stan wrapped his arms loosely around the older man’s neck, hands coming up to tangle through Ford’s short, grey, hair. They stayed like that for a bit, just kissing each other and enjoying the fact that they had one another. It was amazing to think that they almost wouldn’t have had this again. It brought a newfound appreciation to their relationship that really helped them to understand how to be together.

Eventually, though, their arousal made itself known again. Stan still hadn’t been allowed to cum, so he was a little fidgety; he wrapped his legs around Ford and tried to pull the elder Pines down to rut against him, making a tiny whining noise in the back of his throat. Ford took the (very obvious) hints quickly and pulled away from their kiss to smirk down at Stan.

“Turn over,” he commanded, watching Stan hurry to do as he was told. “Come on, sweetheart, face down, ass up.”

The words made Stan feel like something of a slut as he complied, presenting his panty clad bottom for Ford’s perusal. Ford leaned over him (Stan looked back to admire the rippling muscle―and then feel bad about his own chubb) to grab for the lube in the bedside drawer. He pulled it out and sat back on his haunches. Just as quickly, he pulled down Stan’s beautiful panties to expose the pink puckered hole he was so fond of. Now he faced something of a dilemma…

Stan sat for what felt like hours (but was actually only minutes), tense and prepared for whatever Ford had in store for him. He’d expected to hear the ‘snap’ of the lube being popped open, but the sound never came. He was beginning to get antsy when he felt one of Ford’s six fingered hands come down on one of his cheeks again, causing Stan to jolt forward a bit from the shock.

“D-Daddy?” Stan whimpered. “Why―?”

“Shush, my boy,” Ford chastised. He leaned forward and gently bit into the other cheek, the one he hadn’t spanked. Not hard enough to break the skin, but enough to leave an indentation in Stan’s cheek that wouldn’t be going away anytime soon. He laved his tongue over it and then pulled away.

Stan trembled lightly beneath him as Ford leaned in again, this time to blow warm air over Stan’s entrance. Stan tensed up again, before flinching once more when Ford’s tongue made contact, gently dragging the flat of his tongue over the area.

“Daddy…” Stan wiggled his behind, trying to get Ford to do something more. Ford chastised him with another hard swat, tsking.

“Honestly, Stanley, you need to learn patience.”

Stan whined, a little irritated. But Ford moved forward, repeating his action and then spearing his tongue to push it in pass the muscle. Stan didn’t give immediately, so Ford brought his hand up to use his fingers to help ease the way a bit. He pulled away enough to gently push one of his fingers into Stan’s entrance, wiggling around a bit and pressing down, knowing exactly how to crook his fingers to reach Stan’s prostate. Stan sighed into his pillow when he felt it, a dribble of precum falling from the tip of his dick to the bed.

Once Stan had relaxed a bit, Ford pressed a second finger in and spread them, wiggling his tongue in between them. He pressed in as far as he could go, wiggling his tongue and pressing against Stan’s inner walls, listening intently to the hitches in Stan’s breath and the tiny breathy moans Stan tried to keep in. He pulled away enough to kiss Stan’s lower back then, admiring the way smooth softness and gentle curve of his back.

“You’re beautiful,” Ford murmured. Stan whined softly, shaking his head into the pillow. Ford’s eyes hardened immediately at that. He gave Stan’s ass another hard slap.

“What did I tell you about that?” he growled.

“Ford- ah!” another sharp pain struck through Stan’s body like lightning. He sobbed a bit into his pillow because it was too much.

“You  _are_  beautiful, Stanley, and I will not accept you saying otherwise,” Ford hissed. He rubbed a hand over the reddening area. “You’re beautiful and you’re  _mine_. Say it.”

“Ford,  _please_ ―”

“Say it!”

Stan looked back over his shoulder at the older man, who looked so stern and _loving_ , like he’d never let anyone harm Stan, not even himself. Stan forgot sometimes that Ford loved him so much; enough for both of them at times. When he felt like he couldn’t love himself, Ford was there to do it for him. Without Ford, his insecurities would be so much worse.

He mumbled something into his pillow.

“What was that?” Ford squeezed the red cheek he’d given quite the beating to.

“I’m beautiful and I’m yours,” Stan said, louder this time.

“Again!” Ford demanded, picking up the lube and squirting some onto his fingers.

“I’m beautiful and I’m yours.” There was more confidence in the statement this time. He practically keened when Ford pushed his two fingers back into Stan.

“Again!” Ford wiggled his fingers around, spreading them occasionally before inserting another. He crooked them into Stan’s prostate and reveled in the moan Stan let out.

“I’m beautiful and I’m yours!” Practically shouting his mantra, Stan pressed back into the fingers, gyrating his hips and practically fucking himself back on Ford’s fingers. Ford, satisfied pulled his fingers out of Stan, reaching for the lube again.

“You’re beautiful and you’re mine,” he repeated, squirting some of the lube onto his hard cock. He spread it liberally, ensuring that he was completely coated. He lined himself up, prepared to push in when he realized that he wasn’t happy with the position.

Patting Stan’s hip, he watched his brother roll over onto his back, staring up at Ford with a confused look in his eyes. Ford smiled down at him, re-positioning himself above Stan so that the head of his cock was pressed against Stan’s hole. He reached a hand up to take Stan’s own, lacing their fingers together. Stan stared up at Ford with as much love and trust he could muster, wanting Ford to know how much he loved him.

With a single roll of his hips, Ford was engulfed in tight heat, almost too hot to handle. Stan closed his eyes against the intrusion, face flushed with his arousal. His body trembled from the effort of staying still, trying to resist the urge to bear down. Ford was appreciative of Stan’s efforts. He pushed in further, until he was completely encased by Stan’s body. Sheathed as he now was, he leaned over Stan, kissing his cheek.

“You’re beautiful…” he murmured against Stan’s cheek.

“A-and I’m yours…” Stan finished for him, turning his head so that he could meet Ford’s lips. Ford gently bit Stan’s lower lip, a smile tugging at his own. He moved to kiss down Stan’s neck, biting here and there and soothing his brother.

“I love you, Stanley. I love you so much.” Without Stan, he would still be trapped. He would never have found happiness.

“I love you too, Ford,” Stan smiled. He pushed at Ford’s shoulder. “Now  _move_!”

Ford laughed, but he sat up anyway. He didn’t need to be told twice before he lifted one of Stan’s legs to get a better angle to pull out and push back in. It was a shallow thrust more than anything else, but it get his point across. Stan’s breath caught in his throat, before it was knocked out of him when Ford pushed in again.

The tempo was slow for a bit, allowing both of them to adjust sort of. Ford knew it was easy for Stan to get overwhelmed while they were having sex and he didn’t want to overwhelm him so soon. But it wasn’t long before Stan wanted more.

“F-faster!” he gasped, gripping Ford’s hand. “Harder!”

“Is that how you ask― _ah_ ―Stanley?” Ford grinned. Stan would have growled and snapped a bit had Ford not slowed down from his already slow pace, causing an alarmed look to cross Stan’s features.

“Please, Daddy, harder! Faster! More, Daddy, please!” he begged.

“Of course, my boy.” Ford was all too happy to comply, even though it meant letting go of Stan’s hand so that he could hoist Stan’s legs up further, using his strength to near bend Stan in half. The new angle allowed the head of Ford’s cock to glide over Stan’s prostate with every thrust inward. He increased his speed, pulling almost all the way out and then slamming back in.

Stan moaned and grunted loud enough that if they’d had neighbors they would come knocking, demanding that they keep all of their noise down. But seeing as they didn’t have neighbors, Ford completely encouraged Stan’s loud moans of pleasure.

“Daddy! Daddy! Please!” Stan cried, his cock strained and purplish. He whined and moaned in perfect harmony with the slap of skin against skin. Ford loved it.

“What’s wrong, my boy?” Ford asked when Stan’s hands gripped the mattress sheets, nearly tearing them.

“Please―Daddy―don’t want to―have to―don’t wanna cum!” Stan wheezed out, tears coming to his eyes. Everything felt so good he just didn’t want it to _end_. It was like floating on cloud nine; everything was too perfect and he just―he couldn’t contain himself.

“It’s okay,” Ford leaned down to kiss the tears in the corners of Stan’s eyes away. His pace never changed, even as he brought a hand up to tangle into Stan’s hair, yanking it back and exposing Stan’s throat. The expanse of skin was  _much_  too clear for Ford’s liking, and he immediately went to work marking up the skin.

Every thrust seemed to be punctuated with Ford sucking a hickey into his skin or the dull pain of teeth biting in his flesh. At one point, Ford bit the area around Stan’s nipple, leaving teeth marks there as well. Stan loved the feeling so much; the pinpricks of pleasure that shot straight to his cock, making him sob and whine with it.

“Daddy―I can’t―I’m not―I’m gonna cum!” Stan whimpered eyes staring up at the ceiling and vision blurring in and out from the intensity of it. Ford chuckled and grunted in the same breath.

“Then cum.”

Stan didn’t need to be told more than that, because the moment the command was given, his cock began to spurt long, white, strips of semen up his and Ford’s chests, his voice caught on his brother’s name. His vision went white as stars whizzed by, as if everything in the world had come to be in perfect harmony. He was sure he blacked out for a second, because when he came down Ford was thrusting into him erratically, chasing his own orgasm.

To help, Stan clenched tightly around Ford, nearly constricting him. He could feel it when Ford came; his insides felt slicker but Ford didn’t stop until he’d rode out the pleasurable wave to its end. He was breathing heavily into Stan’s neck, teeth locked on Stan’s collar bone.

They calmed down, breathing heavily, trying to come back to themselves. Ford released his hold on Stan’s neck and smiled against him.

“You alright?” he asked Stan. Stan turned his head to look down at Ford.

“I’m  _fine_ ,” he practically purred.

Ford was pleased to hear that. He pulled out of Stan slowly, so as not to harm him, and inspected Stan’s hole, ensuring that there was no damage done. Seeing none, he went about cleaning them up, padding around the bedroom and even to the bathroom for a cloth. He came back and wiped Stan down, having already cleaned up in the bathroom.

He returned the cloth to the bathroom and then came back to the bed, where Stan was dozing in and out of consciousness. He climbed into the bed and practically plastered himself to Stan. Stan didn’t mind one bit.

“When we get up,” he mumbled, “You have to eat.”

Ford would have protested this if not for the fact that it  _had_  been six days. He hadn’t had a proper meal once in those days. Granted, when he was dimension hopping he’d gone  _much_  longer without eating. But now that he was home, he supposed he should take advantage of the fact that he  _could_  eat every day. Stan only wanted him to be healthy after all.

Ever since he’d returned, Stan had only wanted the best for him. He’d stuck by him even after Ford had pretty much attacked him and hadn’t once considered leaving Ford behind. His love for Ford was so strong that it transcended Stan’s fear. The proof was in the fact that Stan had let Ford in when Ford wouldn’t even let  _him_  in.

“Yes, Mr. Pines,” he joked.

Stan snorted, just before he dozed off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> You liked, yes? Let me know, please! Leave a comment here or shoot me a message on tumblr~!


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